Intermission XIV

Within the city of Seevy, a city in the heart of Roxsis territory, a lone bar stood in the poorer part of the city. The bar, though modern in design, appeared grimy and run-down, showing signs of having seen better days. Faded paint peeled from the walls, and the once-bright neon sign flickered weakly, casting a dim glow on the cracked pavement outside. Inside, a few scattered tables with mismatched chairs occupied the dimly lit room. A full bar counter stretched along one wall, lined with bar stools that had seen better days. Behind the counter was a less-than-full shelf of bottles containing various types of cheap liquor.

Currently, there were only three people in the bar.

A hooded figure sat at one end of the bar, away from the other two, who were conversing with each other.

The two people conversing among themselves were Steve, the bar owner, and Doug, one of his regular customers. Both men were well into their fifties, their faces etched with the lines of years spent working and weathering life's challenges. As they stood at the end of the polished wooden bar counter, their voices low and gruff, they lamented the recent events unfolding within the city.

Doug: “It's such bullshit. I barely got a pot to piss in, and now the Roxsis' family is raising the taxes. All so our noble lord can pay for his stupid daughter's birthday celebration. This place has been really going to dogs since the king died.”

Steve: “I know. The nobles do whatever they want now.”

Doug: “They at least had some restraint back then, the king would put em in their place if they got too greedy. Now, there is nothing to hold em back. This is all those king fuckers faults.”

Steve: “Hey now. You can’t blame all monarchists for what’s happening.”

Doug: “Can’t I? I’ve been saying this for years. We should have gotten rid of the monarchy, like they did in the Union States. But nooooooo. The monarchy is part of our ‘culture’ they said, part of our ‘history’ they said. Well, a lot of good that’s doing us now when there is no one on the goddamn throne! Fuck the monarchists for getting us into this mess, fuck Kye Vintrox for dying and leaving no heirs, and FUCK ALL NOBLES! May they all rest in piss!”

Steve: “Well, I can't argue with that. Anyway, I hear the tax hike isn't due to Lord Roxsis's daughter's birthday, but to raise more war funds.”

Doug: “Oh, great. Are they going to start drafting you and me next so that they have more fighters for their stupid war?”

Steve: “No, it's worse than that. They apparently need the money to hire mercenaries from the Endless War cult.”

Doug: “Are you fucking kidding me? They are going to use those battle junkies! What the fuck are we going to do when they inevitably turn on us? How are all these nobles so fucking stupid. Please tell me it's not true.”

Steve: “Eh, there is no official statement about it. But, apparently, there have been a lot of witch hunters around. People are speculating that it's because the Roxsis family hired Endless War cultists. Cause you know where there are witch hunters, there are cultists, and vice versa.”

Doug: “Huh, I haven't seen any of them around.”

Steve: “Really? I met one the other day. They asked me if I heard any rumors of cultism, and some questions about our lord.”

Doug: “Did you lie and tell them you think he’s a cultist? They might try and take him out if they think he is one.”

Steve: “Ha. Should have tried that. But, nah.”

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???: “Excuse me. Did you say you talked to some witch hunters?”

Both old men turned to the hooded figure, who had been sitting in the corner but was now standing beside them.

Steve: “Who wants to know?” he said, sounding suspicious to the cloaked figure.

The figure pulled back the hood of their cloak, revealing long, silky orange hair that cascaded over their shoulders. As the hood fell away, a beautiful face with stunning blue eyes came into view, captivating the old men with its unexpected radiance. The figure was a woman of youthful appearance, her smooth skin, and delicate features strikingly out of place amidst the dim and shadowy surroundings. Her presence brought a sudden vibrancy to the room, and the men couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between her delicate beauty and the mysterious aura that had surrounded her moments before.

Despite her undeniable beauty, the most striking and unusual feature about her was her long, pointed ears. She was an elf.

Sofia: “I am Sofia Firemane. A witch hunter,” as she said that, pulled out an amulet with the symbol of the witch hunter logo on it.

Steve: “Oh! A witch hunter! Sorry, I thought you guys all left the city.”

Sofia: “Are you saying they already left?”

Steve: “Yeah, they all left a few days ago. Did you get separated from that group or something?”

Sofia: “Something like that. Could you tell me where they went?”

Steve: “Ah, the guy I talked to said he was going to Gilla.”

Sofia: “Gilla? Where is that?”

Steve: “It’s a small community way up in the mountains; that's a day's journey from here.”

The orange-haired elf reached into her pocket and produced a weathered map, its edges frayed from frequent use. Unfurling the parchment, she revealed a labyrinth of paths and landmarks, her delicate fingers tracing the route she sought. With a voice that carried a blend of urgency and grace, she asked for detailed directions to Gilla.

Steven obliged and showed her exactly how to get there. He pointed out the route she should take and how long it should take to reach her destination.

Steve: “Once you get to the mountain, you’ll have to go on foot. There are no roads for vehicles in that area.”

Sofia: “Thank you. You have been extremely helpful. May light keep you.”

Steve: “Sorry, I'm not religious.”

Sofia: “Well, all the same,” she said before quietly paying for a drink and leaving the bar.

Once Sofia departed, the bar gradually returned to its regular atmosphere. The bartender wiped down the counter with a practiced hand, casting a final glance toward the door through which Sofia had left.

Steve: “Man, don’t see elves around here often. Pretty as always.”

Doug: “I feel like… I’ve heard of her somewhere. Like, a famous witch hunter…” he mumbled, unable to pin down the identity of the elf woman he just met.

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Sofia trudged her way up a rocky path that wound its way through the mountains in the evening somewhere outside the community of Gilla. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to her skin and causing sweat to bead on her forehead and trickle down her back. Each step was laborious as she navigated the steep, uneven terrain, her boots slipping occasionally on the loose gravel.

All around her, the dense forest pressed in, its canopy a tangle of verdant leaves and twisting branches. The sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves could be heard all around her. The path ahead seemed to stretch endlessly upward, a challenging journey marked by sharp inclines and jagged rocks. Despite the exertion, Sofia pressed on, her determination unwavering as she climbed further into the heart of the mountains.

She had followed Steven's direction exactly and estimated she shouldn’t be too far from Gilla.

While walking she started to smell smoke.

Sofia looked up and saw a massive plume of smoke billowing into the sky in the direction she was headed. The thick, dark cloud churned ominously, rising higher and spreading wider with each passing moment. As she stared at the smoke, a wave of shock and horror swept over her, eyes widening and her mouth falling open. The realization of what the smoke might signify sent a chill down her spine.

Sofia: “Those psychopaths! They didn’t!” she yelled.

Sofia began to rush towards her destination.

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